What Christopher Hitchens taught me, yours truly, about Jewish law and pork. The noted half-Jewish atheist, who died in December, may have uncovered the answer to one of the Torah's greatest mysteries – why aren't pigs kosher?
I ran across this short Hanukka Davar HaTorah from Mir's rosh yeshiva, Rabbi Nosson Tzvi Finkel, on YouTube. It's not easy to understand because Rabbi Finkel has Parkinson's Disease, and his speech is effected. He speaks faintly and haltingly as a result.
Rabbi Finkel also speaks with a Chicago accent. He was born there, I believe, but his mother Sarah is from Saint Paul, Minnesota. She grew up on 13th Street. My father, o.h., grew up on 14th Street. My father's older sisters were contemporaries and friends of Sarah in their preteen years.
Sarah Rosenblum was one of the few of her generation to remain Orthodox. I can count the others on the fingers of one hand, with fingers left over. No one in my father's family remained Orthodox, although his oldest sister kept a kosher home.
Sarah's father was a shochet and the family davened at the Russian, or Red, shul on 13th Street. My father's family davened at the Litvish, or White, shul on 14th. Solly and Maxie Weisberg lived down the block from Sarah's family. (More about both, who I knew well, later.) So did my friend Marv Edelstein, who told me Friday he ran a kosher chicken business from the time he was seven years old. The family had barns behind the house where Marv raised chickens. He hired a shochet – Meltzer, not Nosson Tzvi's grandfather – to shecht the chickens and Marv delivered them to homes in the neighborhood.
I grew up with Sarah's nephews. Their father, Sarah's youngest brother, was a contemporary of my father. Years ago, Victor was sitting next to me a shul meeting, a meeting where the rabbi was campaigning for a huge expansion of the shul's building. Victor, stunned at the scope and cost of the expansion, whispered to me, "Scotty, who does he think is going to pay for this?" Without pausing I replied, "You, Victor." Victor's hands clasped his chest and he let out a loud startled gasp. Heads turned. "You shouldn't joke like that," Victor hissed. "I'm not joking," was my reply. I left for Israel and a year of yeshiva shortly after that meeting. After first trying Kfar Chabad (for less than 24 hours – another story for another time), I settled in at Aish HaTorah. Eventually, Nosson Tzvi's brother Gedaliah was a teacher of mine there, but it would only be later, after I returned to Minnesota and Gedaliah came to visit his Uncle Victor and his cousins, that we both realized the connection. And, yes, Nosson Tzvi's Uncle Victor did pay for a large chunk of the shul's expansion.
My father's grandfather had his own shteibel for a few years on the far edge of that area of Saint Paul. But the Jewish community developed closer to downtown and eventually the little shtiebel closed. My great-grandfather became the shammash of both the 13th and 14th Street shuls but still lived almost a mile away. On rainy Shabbat evenings a priest from the Catholic church, impressed with my great-grandfather's religious dedication, used to walk him home under an open umbrella, afraid he would otherwise become ill from the rain and cold. My great-great grandfather also had, for a time, an informal after public school heder of sorts where he taught a few students the rudiments of Biblical Hebrew and basic davening, halakha and leining.This ended when Saint Paul's rabbis opened a formal Talumud Torah in about 1913.
So who else remained strictly Orthodox? Sarah Rosenblum Finkel did it by moving to Chicago, as did one of Marv Edelstein's relatives. The founder and gabbi of the only Orthodox shul in Saint Paul, Isaac Symes, was another. Then there was David Katz, a Navy boxing champion in WW2, shell-shocked and seriously damaged by the War. Dave worked as a milkman and then as a shipping clerk. When Sons of Jacob, the big Orthodox synagogue in Saint Paul, voted to join the Conservative Movement in the late 1970s, Dave was one of the few members to leave – perhaps the only member to leave, if the stories I heard in shul are true. He served as the shul's livery service, picking up several older members and, sometimes, a car-less college student for the minyan every morning and most evenings.
The last Orthodox rabbi of Sons of Jacob was Moishe Lichtman. Moishe, I later learned, grew up in Brooklyn. His grandfather was very close to the Satmar Rebbe, Yoel Teitlebaum. Moishe, who was an illui of sorts, used to sit on Reb Yoilish's lap during the Third Sabbath meal. Manis Friedman, a man without smicha, once dismissed Moishe Lichtman as a "BT" and "not a real rabbi." Moishe at 13 could have easily out-learned Manis at any age. Sons of Jacob became Beth Jacob. Its first and so far only Rabbi is Morris Allen of Hechsher Tzedek fame.
The other person to remain Orthodox was Nachman Liefschultz, a rag picker. His father had been a hasid of the Orsha Rebbe, a grandson of the Tzemach Tzedek, the third Lubavitcher Rebbe. Rabbi Feller, the head Chabad shaliach here, took Russian "chief rabbi" Berel Lazar's father to Nachman's nursing home so Rabbi Lazar could see a "chossid from the Rebbe Rashab," not realizing Nachman's family were Orsha hasidim.
Nachman was mentally slow. It took him ten minutes or longer to write a check at the grocery store. Yet he still functioned as a hazzan and knew a lot of Torah, mostly agadata, by heart. His siblings all belonged to Conservative synagogues. In his 90s, blind and cancer-ridden, Nachman used to daven by heart in his nursing home bed. I was privileged to raise money and buy Nachman his last pair of tefillin, arba kanfot, and the mezzuzah for his nursing home door.
So why so few Orthodox Jews from those generations?
I don't know for sure. What I do know is the following:
There were several significant scholars and dozens of haredi rabbis in Saint Paul from the early 1900s until just after WW2.
I have never heard anything nice said about any of them, even the hasidishe rabbis of Saint Paul's West Side river flats..
The town's chief rabbi, a Litvak, Rabbi Hurwitz, was known as the Roite Rav, not because he had red hair or a red shul but because he was so often red with anger. I have asked dozens of people about him over the years and never heard anything even remotely redeeming about his personality or behavior except from Marv Edelstein's brother-in-law, who was a MO rabbi for a time in Chicago. He spoke about Rabbi Hurwitz's "gadlus" in learning. None of Rabbi Hurwitz's children remained Orthodox. Rabbi Hurwitz was the rabbi of the 14th Street shul and the 13th Street shul, as well. As such, he had ample opportunity to abuse and persecute my great-grandfather. True to his nature, Rabbi Hurwitz passed on few of these opportunities. A few months before my great-grandfather died, after a particularly disgusting example of Rabbi Hurwitz's abuse, Hurwitz had a change of heart – spurred, in part, by the reaction of others who were disgusted with the chief rabbi's behavior. He apologized to my great-grandfather for the years of abuse and the mistreatment of his children and grandchildren. (Yes, the chief rabbi was petty enough to take out his anger on the children and grandchildren of his employees.)
The rabbis fought among themselves, were seen as petty, and were little involved in the real lives of their congregations.
The rabbis were Eastern European shtetlach rebbes trying to lead congregations in a western enlightened democracy. They had neither the language skills or the temper to minister to Americans, and they had disdain for those who could.
Orthodoxy lost the war with modernity because it behaved like Saint Paul's early rabbis. Rather than learning its lesson, much of Orthodoxy has instead repeated those errors, banning books and banning rabbis, finding heretics under every tallis and shtender, bickering and fighting, regressing, rather than progressing.
Demographic trends indicate Orthodoxy should become the dominant American Judaism by mid-century, but it won't be because it has attracted so many ba'alei teshuva or retained so many of its born members – the data says Orthodoxy has done none of this. Orthodoxy will dominate only because few others want to participate in a Judaism so fouled by petty-minded rivalries and short-sighted antics, or in what they perceive to be the irrelevancy of all Jewish streams and organizations. Jews are leaving the virtual shtetl in droves and newcomers – BTs and converts – do not come close to making up the loss. Orthodoxy may end up the last man standing but it won't be because it knocked anyone out of the ring – it will be because most people, even many Orthodox Jews, do not care enough to compete.
The farther away from Orthodoxy one goes, the farther away from the shtetlkeit and taboos one is is. This means it is far easier for a non-Orthodox Jew to leave Judaism. Often they do this without even noticing and without their friends and family noticing, as well.
This does not mean Orthodoxy is full of happy, contented members – far from it. It means it is full of members who are unhappy, who are trapped within Orthodoxy by taboo and draconian barriers. (What do I mean by draconian barriers? Just ask a Footsteps kid what it's like to lose your entire family, all your friends, your job, your home and all your social support in one day, and have that happen when you cannot read or write coherently in the English language and do not have a high school degree.)
In pre-Destruction Palestine, there was a fight between the school of Hillel the Elder and the school of Shammai. While we say today that we follow Hillel, what we really follow is Hillel's school after it had already lost many important battles to Shammai. As the Jerusalem Talmud (Shabbat 1:4) makes clear, Shammai was dirty fighter who broke rules and used violence to get his way. Much of our anti-gentile legislation comes from him and was 'adopted' only because Shammai resorted to violence against the school of Hillel to get his way.
But the real divide in those days was between Jews like Philo – who commanded a far lager following than did the rabbis – and assimilationist elements in the Jewish elite. Which side retained more Jews? Philo, by far.
We would all probably be followers of Philo if not for two quirks of history. The first was the Destruction, which wiped out the sacrificial cult and at the same time forced several generations of rabbis to get along and play fair. This created a synthesis of the Shammai and Hillel schools. (And this may have happened because many more Shammai followers died in the revolt against Rome. Why? Because Shammai's virulent hatred of all things gentile led them to believe the revolt was a good thing.) So the cultic opposition to rabbinic Judaism was destroyed at the same time rabbinic Judaism was forced to unify.
The second quirk of history was the Diaspora revolt in 117 CE against Rome, fueled by increasing Roman persecution. The revolt failed and dozens of Jewish communities across the Mediterranean disappeared as a result. Lacking both the Jerusalem Temple as a focal point and a developed unified system to unite them, the communities that survived the revolt were weak and broken. Most faded away. Some remained, eventually adopting rabbinic Judaism during the standardization campaign waged by Babylonian rabbis after the completion of the Babylonian Talmud 400 or more years later.
Babylonian Jews did not participate in either revolt or in the revolt led by Bar Kohba in the 130s CE. They also lived under non-Roman and non-Greek rule, and did not face the challenges of science and philosophy faced by the Jews of Palestine and the Hellenist diaspora. Instead, Babylonian Judaism thrived on the folk superstitions and primitive theologies of the region. While the Greeks had deduced the existence of molecules and atoms, Babylonians 'divined' the future by casting and 'reading' chicken bones. Our Judaism is primarily a derivative of Babylonian Judaism.
Perhaps that is why Judaism as we know it thrives in closed societies but flounders in open ones, and why the most blatant pagan superstitions find a welcoming home in Jewish mysticism, hasidism and kabbala.
Where are Babylonian Jews today? Many became Muslim, often converting by choice, not by the sword, before the year 1100. Babylonian Judaism could not handle the intellectual and scientific challenges brought by Islam, just as it later would fail to handle the challenges of modernity, enlightenment and science in the west.
Given the chance, Jews opt for openness, knowledge and progress. The challenge for Jewish leaders is to constantly reinvent Judaism so that it can meet the challenges posed.
The ghetto never wins. It may temporarily keep Jews trapped inside Judaism, but eventually ghetto walls fall and Jews leave in droves, just like they left before, just like they are leaving today.
I'm regularly surprised at how little Orthodox Jews – even haredim – know about the halakhic process.
Increasingly, even "rabbis" learn only surface applications of parts
of Yorah Dayah and Shabbos. They don't learn poskim or look deeply into
commentaries. (An exception to this are those who take and pass the
Rabbinute's smicha tests, which are extraordinarily deep and difficult.)
Hasidic groups, especially Skver and Chabad, are notorious for this
– but they are not alone. Many "heimishe" yeshivot are the same.
And OJs who do not study for smicha are even worse off.
A former teacher of mine was very close to Rabbi Shlomo Zalman
Auerbach. Early in his studies with him, Rabbi Auerbach decided a
particular case in a very lenient fashion, and it suprised my teacher.
Rabbi Auerbach explained the ruling and said (and I paraphrase here),
"It is easy to be strict. It is very difficult to be lenient. My job is
to do what is necessary to relieve the burdens of Jews, not to increase
them." (This does not mean every case goes to kula.)
Most Jews have no understanding of that. They see halakha as black
and white, and as a result are shocked and often disgusted and confused
when they see how halakha really works.
Increasingly, major rabbinic figures in the haredi world are not
true poskim. They are roshei yeshivot who primarily teach Talmud.
They do not deal with piskei halakha on a deep basis. They also are largely
divorced from the day to lives of Jews who do not sit all day and
learn. Their halakhic decisions are increasingly strict and
increasingly divorced from the real world.
As Rabbi Herschal Schachter noted, they err in critical areas,
especially in how to deal with rabbis and others who sexually abuse
children. They invoke inapplicable halakha – lashon hara laws, laws
about honoring sages, and the like – and reach decisions that are
disasterous for the Jewish community and for victims of rabbinic sexual
abuse.
In kollel (where I learned but was not a kollel member), I once
voiced strong disagreement with a rabbinic commenter who was clearly
misconstruing a halakha and then using that error to reach a stringent
decision. I pointed out the historical and other errors, and showed how
his logic could not hold up to the facts at hand.
This upset kollel members who thought I was being disrespectful to
this particular rabbi. I asked them to attack my logic and the facts.
They could not.
I told them this type of mental gymnastics is fine, as long as it is
done to help Jews, to make their lives easier. But it is wrong to do
what that rabbi did in order to go to humra, to make Judaism more
restrictive and more difficult to follow.
This was a new thought for these kollel men. Their years in Lakewood
and its affiliate schools were spent for the most part learning Talmud. They
learned little halakaha, and what they did learn was learned in the new
style – "x says y but we hold like z." In other words, "There are two
or three opinions. We hold like the one of them because big rabbi Ploni
held that way. Next case." This is not how halakha is meant to be learned.
I think a large part of the rot that infuses Orthodoxy can be traced
to the decision, made somewhere in the not too distant past, to learn
halakha like it is an affinity group. "We hold x. Therefore you hold x
or you are not part of our "'We.'"
While outside truths – science, modernity, humanism – have done much
to weaken Orthodoxy, I believe it is damage from within that has done
the most hurt.
On an Erev Shabbat in the not too distant past, the story goes, two Jews brought the
same chicken to the local rabbi with a question – is this chicken
kosher?
To the rich woman, the rabbi ruled non-kosher. To the poor woman he
ruled kosher. Why two different rulings on the same bird? Because the
rabbi's job was to decide with kindness, to make life easier for his
people. The rich woman could afford another chicken. The poor woman
could not.
Today, I think most rabbis, if faced with a similar question, would
rule the mythical chicken non-kosher for both women. The rabbi might find some
tzedaka money for the poor woman or he might tell her to face this
chickenless Shabbos with mesirat nefesh, and make do with potatoes and
halla alone.
The rabbi's skills at applying the halakha have atrophied because he
has become dependent on a far away rosh yeshiva to decide cases. He
views himself as part of an affinity group. He does not wish to exclude
himself from that group by deciding in a way that group does not, even
though his decision would be well within halakhic norms.
He also has to fear other members of his group who, on hearing his decision may very well challenge him and harass him.
It is a system that is far more likely to give a wealthy person a lenient decision. It fosters inequality. And it breeds rot.
If you're still Orthodox, go learn Yorah Dayah with all its
commentaries, with hundreds of years of poskim. Learn to see the flow
of halakha, to see the humrot for what they are and the leniencies for
what they are.
Is there an item that is muktze (forbidden to move and sometimes touch) on only one Shabbat that falls every few years and only in one specific (or, perhaps, several specific) location(s) but not in the vast majority of locations? If you think the answer is yes, please make sure to explain which Shabbat and which location(s). Either way, leave your answer in the comments section.
Rabbi Gil Student has a post on a troublesome mishna:
The Mishnah in Horiyos (13a) states: A man comes before a woman in matters of life (le-hachayos) and to return a lost item, and a woman comes before a man for clothing and redemption from captivity.
The implication of the first item is that if a man and woman are drowning, one should save the man first and then the woman.
Rabbi Student then goes on to cite two rabbis who recently found ways to get out of this:
R. Moshe Feinstein (Iggeros Moshe, Choshen Mishpat vol. 4
… writes that the rule of the Mishnah only applies when
all other things are [absolutely] equal.…
R. Eliezer Waldenberg (Tzitz Eliezer 18:1) notes that the rule of the Mishnah is not mentioned in Mishneh Torah, Tur, and Shulchan Arukh. Why? To answer this, he proposes a new interpretation of the Mishnah. He suggests that "matters of life (le-hachayos)"
refers to feeding from charitable funds. Of course, he writes, when
there is a literal case of life and death then we do not differentiate
between people.…
Aplogetics aside, the intent of the mishna seems clear. When the ship sinks, save the men first. Why would this be? let me suggest the following answer. Men either were or had the potential to be Torah scholars; women did not. Therefore, the rabbis ruled that men – i.e., the Torah – must be saved first.
So why ransom women first? Why not ransom men first? Because, in that case, women had the real possiblity of being raped and abused. While men also needed to fear this, the threat was, I would think, lower for us than for women. Therefore, the case is not equal, and the threat to women is higher than the threat men; therefore, women come first in this case.
But what about clothing? Why should women get their clothing first? I would think, in part, because there a many areas of a woman's body that must, under Jewish law, be clothed; the same is not true for men. Further, who is seen to be damaged by a woman who is underdressed or naked? Men. So, giving women clothing comes first.
This leaves the case of the lost object. Why return a lost object to a male first, rather than a female? Because women had inferior property rights and were seen as extentions of their husbands or fathers.
In short, remove the apolgetics and you have discriminatory misogynistic halakha. On the bright side, the halakha is not cited in the Mishneh Torah, Tur, and Shulchan Arukh. Why?
Not, I think, for the reason citied in Rabbi Waldengerg's, ztz"l, name. I think this halakha was too much for the people to take and too open for attack from the outside, so, in order to preserve the rabbinic order (remember, Karaite and Muslim theology were both major threats in those days) the rabbis simply ignored it in theory. In practice, in the unlikely event that a case came before them based on this law, I would think they ruled narrowly.
Aplogetics aside, women go down with the ship. How can this be justified? Should it be justified?
Are rabbis like trees? If so, when is it appropriate to 'chop one down' or cut a rabbi down to size? Steven I. Weiss has a talmudic quote from Ta'anit 7a that explains, in the name of Rabbi Yochanan:
DovBear has a shocking post on what may be the true reason Sarah threw Yishmael out:
By far, the most surprising opinion can be found on the Bar Ilan website, where Dr. Joseph Fleischman argues rather convincingly that Yitzchak was sexually abused.
And Dr. Fleischman's proofs are quite strong, as one can see from reading the linked article, including the opinion of Rabbi Akiva, who argued 1900 years ago for this exact position. Rabbi Akiva did not have our knowledge of ancient semitic languages to back up his argument. If he had, the story of the expulsion of Yishmael would have taken its place alongside the (date) rape of Dinah as a paradigm of sexual abuse and response. Maybe now it will.
DovBear has his usual incisive posts on Noah's flood. In short, it never happened. All evidence from geology and many other hard sciences as well as softer sciences and history show this clearly. And, guess what? Saying the Flood never happened does not make you a heretic or non-Orthodox – it just makes you alert and honest.
It's just a few hours before Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year. Most Jews, even many not otherwise religious, will spend the day in fasting and in prayer.
Yom Kippur is perhaps the most observed Jewish holiday after the Passover Seder night. I think the reason for this is largely because the idea of teshuva – and of forgiveness – is universal. All of us have done things we are sorry for. We all want to make amends and seek forgiveness. But this is hard to do. Yom Kippur gives this process structure and, perhaps more importantly, makes it communal. Asking another for forgiveness, especially at a time when he is himself seeking forgiveness from someone else or from God, makes the process much easier. It is difficult to refuse another's apology when you must yourself ask forgiveness of someone.
So Jews will flock to shuls, synagogues, and temples to seek forgiveness, or to hope that their one-day presence is enough to excuse their year long absence, and that God will forgive their neglect.
Others will sit, perhaps in the seat next to yours, and will quietly demand an apology from God and from man. For what? For entire families burned to smoke and ashes or buried in mass graves. For starvation and torture and neglect. For the rabbi, God's messenger, who raped and abused them, and for the rabbis who stood by and let it happen. For the Kolkos and the Lanners and for their enablers, the Margulies and the Willigs, and, sadly, the gedolim.
Chances are, in your shul, someone will be alone within the crowd, lost in the pain of abuse present or past.
But we will ignore them. We will beat our chests, cry and seek forgiveness for tying the wrong shoe first or accidentally eating a piece of non-yoshon bakery. We will beseech God with all our might to forgive us these sins. For the day we ate a Hebrew National hot dog, for the day we ate the wrong cheese, for the day we didn't learn enough or daven hard enough. And, as the day ends and the fast lifts, we feel renewed and forgiven.
This Yom Kippur take a few minutes out of your scripted self-centered piety and think about those people who really needed your help, but you ignored them. Maybe you wanted to avoid a "hillul hashem." Perhaps you denied their cries by citing lashon hara law, or you chose to side with the rabbis because of their power and social standing ("they must be right – they're rabbis and community leaders, after all"). Or maybe through the din of your daily life you did not hear their cries.
When the fast ends will you feel renewed and forgiven? I don't think so.
It is our job, our mission as Jews, to make God known in the world. We do that whether we realize it or not, often whether we want to or not, for better or for worse.
The world is what we make of it. If you want to see God's presence, make room for it. How do you do that? Help people. Feed the hungry, protect the defenseless. Reject corruption, stealing and fraud. Deal honestly with everyone, and protect the weakest among us.
If you do that, people will look at your communities and they will see God and they will say God is good.
If you do not, they will look at your communities and they will see a God of evil, a corrupt God, a falsifiable God, a God of welfare fraud and political fixes, of nepotism and abuse. You may not understand this but, all frum propaganda aside, this is what many people now see when they look at Orthodoxy.
It doesn't have to be that way. You each have a choice. It may be difficult and it may be painful, but it's yours. Please act on it.
Rabbi Gil Student posted (uncritically, of course) on Rabbi Menachem Genack's shameful and misleading article on the OU's non-glatt policy. I noted here why Rabbi Genack is less than completely honest. Now let me address a comment by Michael Rogovin to that Hirhurim post.
>R' Teitz of Elizabeth was the last "reliable" non-glatt hashgacha but because of ignorance his butcher was avoided.
Actually, Upper Midwest Kashrut of St Paul MN is listed in the Chicago Rabbinical Council (Triangle CRC) as a reliable hechsher with the note that some meat products are not glatt. Nathan's kosher hot dogs carry this hechsher and are presumably not glatt, but should be reliable.
Upper Midwest kosher changed its name to United Mehadrin Kosher years ago. A small point, perhaps, but the name is telling. A "mehadrin" hechsher giving supervision to non-glatt meat. But the more you learn about that supervision, the more telling that name becomes.
The UMK is headed by Rabbi Asher Zeilingold, a Chabad hasid and rabbi located in Saint Paul, Minnesota. Rabbi Z, as those who follow this site will remember, is both my former rabbi and a close friend of Rabbi Sholom Rubashkin, the operational head of Agriprocessors and Aaron's Best. Rabbi Z has given supervision on Rubashkin's non-glatt for almost 20 years. But that supervision isn't what you think.
KAJ, the then-head of kashrut supervision for all the varying supervisions at Rubashkin, including the OU, would not put its symbol on non-glatt meat. No haredi supervision would, and the OU would not do so either. So KAJ and Rubashkin made a deal with Rabbi Z that went something like this: You put your name on our non-glatt. KAJ will do all the work. We'll take care of you. (I think Rabbi Z first had a symbol and adopted Upper Midwest Kosher as a name about this time.)
And this is what went on for many years and may still be happening today–except Rav Wiessmandl has replaced KAJ in the supervision hierarchy.
Anything one could say bad about Triangle-K supervision (see the many uniformed comments on Hirhurim) one could easily say about UMK, especially UMK 10 to 20 years ago. It was primarily because UMK was a fig leaf for KAJ that made its meat acceptable.
The facts of this supervision were known in the industry for years. I heard them first hand from Rabbi Z because the Agudah rabbi of Minneapolis tried to ban this very non-glatt from Minneapolis, and tried all sorts of questionably halakhic devices to stop its sale, including having a proxy drag my partner and I to beit din over this and a trumped up hasagat gevul charge. The Agudah Rav and his proxy lost. The non-glatt was stopped anyway because his friend, the local kosher food distributor, held by the Agudah Rav's decision even after the beit din ruled against him, and no non-glatt was delivered. For his part, Rubashkin held with the Agudah Rav against his own supervision because of a complicated business deal with that kosher food distributor. This kept the price of kosher meat artificially high. From what I've heard since word of the Justice Department investigation into price fixing in the kosher meat industry, stories like mine are not uncommon.
So, when the CRC says UMK non-glatt is reliable, what it's really saying is Wiessmandl/KAJ/OU non-glatt is reliable, which is why Nathan's is reliable – if Rubashkin's animal welfare and other issues don't bother you.
You make rice in a clean dairy pot, thinking you'll serve it for dinner in a dairy Indian recipe. At last minute, you remember Aunt Millie's meat chili, sitting in the refrigerator for the last three days. You change your mind and decide to have the chili. But you have no more rice. Can you eat the meat chili together with the rice made in the dairy pot? If yes, why? If no, why not?
A few of you – including one Chabad rabbi who claims semicha from Rabbi Moshe Feinstein – suggested answers. No one answered correctly, although some were much closer than others.
So, here's the long answer:
If you look at the Piskhei Teshuva 95:2, you'll see he brings the Pri Megadim and the Chavot Da'at. Both hold like the Shach. The water would be forbidden to eat with meat, but the food cooked in it is permitted. (Actually, the Chavot Da'at would let you use the water with meat as well.) The only real problem here is if the situation involves roasting (tzli) fish (or another pareve food) using meat (or milk) utensils and then eating that food together with the opposite type. This stringency does not apply to regular cooking.
The Shulchan Aruch follows Tosofot and the Rosh in their understanding of Rashi's opinion. It doesn't distinguish between roasting or regular cooking – both are permitted, but only if one did not plan to do it. Once the rice is cooked in a clean milk pot, if you change your mind and want to eat it with meat, you can without restriction.
For Sefardim that is the normative halakha.
For Ashkenazim, it is the same with one change–if the food item in question is roasted, some poskim will ask that you remove a k'dei klipa (a thin peeling of the food) before combining it with the opposite type. Others will be stricter and will rule combining roasted pareve food as described above is not permitted.
A nursing home resident, a woman of about 90, went to the State Fair today with her daughter. She saw just-born calves and sheep, and an array of farm animals, all up close for the first time. This woman belonged for most of her adult life to a Conservative synagogue, one that has, for the last 35 years or so, been on the leftward fringe of the Conservative Movement. Despite that, she kept kosher (until her late 60's, when she gave it up), and was and still is actively involved in Jewish life.
She described her outing to me and then excitedly said, "It was so wonderful to see those baby calves and sheep. You can really see God's handiwork by seeing them, by seeing God's creation."
This was Avraham Avinu's (Abraham's) lesson, taught anew by one of his grandchildren.
Somewhere tonight, a certain Zoo Rabbi is smiling.
Rabbi Eli Monsour asks an important question. From DailyHalacha.com:
Many Rishonim (Medieval sages) raised the question of why the Rabbis did not ordain the recitation of a Beracha over the Mitzva of Bikur Cholim (visiting the sick), as they did for other Mitzvot. …
The Rashba (Rabbi Shlomo Ben Aderet, Spain, 1235-1310) answers this question by establishing a basic principle regarding the Berachot recited over Mitzvot. He claims that the Rabbis did not ordain the recitation of a Beracha over a Mitzva whose performance depends upon two different people. Tzedaka, for example, requires the participation of both the donor and recipient. If a person would recite a Beracha before giving charity, then if the poor person refuses the donation the Beracha would become a "Beracha Le'vatala" (a "wasted" Beracha, which is forbidden to recite). Similarly, if a person recites a Beracha before entering the patient's room to pay a visit, and the patient asks him to leave, his Beracha would be "Le'vatala." The Rabbis therefore chose not to ordain the recitation of a Beracha over these and other Mitzvot that depend upon the consent of a second party.
The Or Zarua (Rabbi Yitzchak of Vienna, 1180-1250) suggests a different reason why no Beracha is recited over the Mitzva of visiting the sick, claiming that no Beracha is recited over a Mitzva that can be performed at any time.…
Others suggested that the Rabbis did not ordain the recitation of a Beracha over Mitzvot that are intuitively logical, which even the gentiles acknowledge.… [E]ven the gentiles – who were not "sanctified with His commandments" – acknowledge and perform this Mitzva.…
I find these answers weak, and was happy to see that Rabbi Monsour suggests what I also belive to be the correct – and the obvious – answer:
We may suggest an additional reason, namely, that it would be inappropriate to recite a Beracha over a Mitzva that presents itself as a result of the pain and suffering of another person. As a person enters the room to visit his ailing friend, he should not joyfully express his gratitude to God for enabling him to perform this Mitzva, which came about because of another person's pain.
This seems so obvious, I wonder why Rishonim did not mention it. Readers? Any thoughts on this?
Aish.com has one of the most foolish articles about the new war in Israel I've seen. Entitled "Seven Ways You Can Help Israel," the article is long on feel-good spirituality and short – very short – on tachlis. The seven ways you can help? Here they are, in order just as Aish lists them:
1. Pray.
2. Cry.
3. Study Torah.
4. Believe.
5. Repent.
6. Do good.
Okay, so there are only six ways. The seventh, stated at the end of the article, is get on a plane and come to Israel today, presumably to do much more of numbers one through five.
When Jews face danger, prayer is natural – and correct. But it is not the be all and end all Aish makes it out to be. God wants us to do the most we can in the here and now to make things better. The midrash points out Nachshon ben Aminadav went into the sea until his nostrils were a fraction of an inch above water. It was only then the sea split. A midrash also chastises Moshe for praying when he should have been doing exactly what Nachshon did.
The lesson for us should be clear – doing what we can do to help Israel, from going there and helping out to sending money to funds that will help offset the tremendous financial losses taken by Israelis in a time of war, comes first. Extra time praying and learning should happen as well, but not as a first choice or even as a second. Practical help always comes first.
So, you might wonder why I ridicule Aish. After all, what we have is a disagreement over priorities. Both parties here endorse practical action. If you thought this, I would not argue with you. If the only sin of Aish was a shifting of priorities, the tenor my attack against them would be uncalled for. But it is not Aish.com's only sin:
Rabbi Elchonon Wasserman, one of the greatest Torah leaders in Eastern Europe during the Holocaust said this before he was murdered by the Nazis: "In times of trouble, anyone who can strengthen themselves and doesn't transgresses the command of "standing by while your neighbor's blood is being spilt." Literally. Because every effort by every single Jew has the power to prevent bloodshed and save the Jewish people. And if someone has the capability and doesn't do anything, he's an accomplice to destruction, preventing the preservation and salvation of the Jewish people with his own hands."
Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman (who in the above passage is speaking about spiritual action like praying and learning) forbade his students and followers from fleeing to Palestine or America. Most perished in the Holocaust. Wasserman allegedly refused visas for himself and his students from the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary because Yeshiva University (the parent organization of REITS) was "worse than Hitler."
Wasserman was an extreme anti-zionist who also hated modernity. His "advice" killed hundreds of his followers. To cite such a man in the context of what should be done today to help Israel is unconscionable. The only reason I can think of for Aish to do this is ignorance.
Wasserman is not a role model. He was an extremist whose advice led to death, not life, and whose words were filled with hate for Jews who kept Shabbat, kashrut and Jewish law but differed with him on theological grounds.
Israel needs your help. Send money. Offer support. Go if you can and think it safe (or go if you are willing to take the risk). But by all means do not spend excessive time learning or praying until you are certain every Israeli has food and a safe place to sleep. That is what Jewish law – and common sense – expects and demands.
I was visiting a patient in a healthcare facility last night and was asked by a non-Jewish nurse about the various spellings (in English) and pronunciations (in English and Hebrew) of a certain Hebrew word she had heard on television and seen in print. I explained the differences were due to Ashkenazic and Sefardic pronunciations. We spoke for a moment about Jewish history and then she said, "But soon you'll all go back there, won't you?" She then went on to say that the more Jews in Israel, the easier it will be for us to control the land.
But her reference was to the messianic era, and we returned to that. I briefly explained the Jewish point of view regarding Geula, going back to Israel, et cetera, including the hope that illness and death will be no more.
That spun into a deeper conversation in which I noted that, after the Holocaust, it's difficult to believe much of this. So much suffering, so much death …
She responded that we all need more faith. I indicated my less than perfect faith. And then she said, "You move away and then come back, move away and come back again. You always come back. You always will come back. You come from good stock and you'll always return to your source."
The essence of Israel's situation and of Breslover Hasidut explained in a few brief moments by a kindly non-Jewish nurse. Amazing.
RebelJew has a nice d'var haTorah on the sin of the Golden Calf.
Failed messiah was established and run in 2004 by Mr. Shmarya (Scott)Rosenberg. The site was acquired by Diversified Holdings, Feb 2016. .We thank Mr. Rosenberg for his efforts on behalf of the Jewish Community.
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